Safe and Sound
by district9n3quarters
Summary: A collection of short stories depicting life after the epilogue. Beware of spoilers. Themes are hurt, comfort, family and romance. R&R! :)
1. Dandelions

**Finally I have had the inspiration to write and post a new story! Yay! This will be a collection of short stories of life after the epilogue. This collection of stories was inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Safe and Sound from The Hunger Games soundtrack as you can probably tell from the title. Some of the stories will be sad and others will be fluffy. I also read somewhere that Suzanne Collins named Katniss' and Peeta's children Willow and Rye so that is what they will be called in these stories. I am also still planning another Hunger Games story so stay tuned! Enjoy! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

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"Mummy, wake up, wake up! I have to go to school," I hear Willow's soft, angelic voice whisper in my ear. Every school morning would be pretty much the same. At precisely seven o'clock Willow would tip toe into mine and Peeta's bedroom and gently shake me awake telling me that we must get ready so we can reach her school in time.

It is needless for Willow to wake me up as I am already wide awake before I hear her small footsteps run into our bedroom.

"Come on, let's get you dressed," I say as I hop out of bed and run her back into her own bedroom. I would get her dressed and sit her down on a small wooden stool and braid her dark locks into two separate braids. After breakfast I would slip her small school pack filled with her pencils and books onto her back. I always stay back to keep an eye on a sleeping Rye and Peeta would walk Willow to school.

This is when my favourite part of the school mornings commences. It's always the same but it always brings a smile to my face. I would watch as Peeta and Willow walk hand in hand to school. They would walk through a field scattered with bright yellow dandelions and I always watch as Peeta leans down, plucks a single dandelion and tucks it into her braid.

She will come home from school with the dandelion still clinging to her hair and run upstairs to stash her dandelion in a small wooden box where she keeps her collection of wilted dandelions.

Although those dandelions have wilted and lost their yellow hue those flowers mean something to Willow just as something damaged can still mean a great deal to someone else even if it's hard to see it from your own perspective, especially when you're the one who is damaged.

I guess that's the way Peeta loves me and the way I love him. We are both damaged, physically and mentally, but we both have shared wonderful memories that allow us to overlook our damaged selves and see the beauty inside, like Willow sees the enjoyment she feels every time Peeta picks her a dandelion through the damaged, wilted remains of those flowers.

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 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated! :)**


	2. Lone Arrow

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games**

 **Spoilers!**

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The chilling morning breeze whispers through the forest. These surroundings almost feel foreign to me now because it's been so long since this ground has felt my footsteps. I walk the trail alone, with my bow and arrow clutched in my hand.

The incentive for this is unknown. I guess a just wanted to feel like I was home again. But home is a different place now. I no longer have the comfort of my mother, the friendship from Gale or the love from Prim. I find myself asking if it is still home when they are not here. Home is Peeta, Willow and Rye now. They provide me with all that I have lost. Home is this forest where I will forever come alone.

I perch on the rock where Gale and I used to sit. It feels too cold. The sense of serenity is cast over me and I succumb to the quiet. I close my eyes and it all of sudden feels like the games never happened. But reality is quick to come back. I hear Effie's voice announcing Prim's name, I hear myself volunteering to go into the games to save my sister and I hear Seneca Crane's voice announcing that Peeta and I are the victors. Those moments were when the seed of the revolution was planted and that has all lead to now.

I hear a rafting of turkeys scratch at the dead leaves behind me. Years of hunting has caused me to instinctively load an arrow and aim at one of the birds. It's been so long since I have had a chance to shoot a simple bird. Too many times my arrows have found their way into human flesh, killing my victims.

I think of Marvel, Cato, Gloss, Capitol bombers who may have just been doing their job, Peacekeepers, a female Capitol citizen and President Coin. I killed them all with my, once innocent, bow and arrow. Were they all worthy of death? I dare not delve into the complicated web that is worth.

So instead of shooting an arrow through the turkey's eye I shoot it into the dirt, frightening them instead. Claiming something or someone's life would trigger too many memories, some of which I wish to forget.

What or whom I will kill next with my bow and arrow is unknown, but for now I'll leave the claiming of lives to death itself.

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 **Hope you enjoyed the second chapter! Reviews appreciated! :)**


	3. Prim's Primroses

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games**

 **Major Spoiler Alert! Don't read this story if you haven't read Mockingjay unless, for some reason, you enjoy reading spoilers. I for one do not so for those who are like me, you have been warned.**

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Sometimes the primroses are too much for me. Sometimes they make me think of my sister so much that an incurable pain overcomes me. But today the beautiful array of colours the primroses display make me think of my sister in such a way that it makes me smile. Today I acknowledge the day my sister left me forever.

It's been many years now. If she were alive today she would be a well-practiced nurse tending to those who are sick or wounded. She would possibly have a family of her own, children and a husband to care for.

I stand over her memorial as the tears come back again. So many years have passed but it is still impossible for me to stand over these flowers with dry eyes. I will never stop missing Prim. She will forever have a special place in my heart where it is impossible for anyone else to occupy.

Peeta comes up from behind me and rests his arm around my waist. The comfort of his presence strangely makes me cry more. He holds two small primrose bushes in his hand. One is dotted with violet flowers and the other is dotted with white ones.

He leans down, scrapes away some of the dirt from the ground and places the violet primrose bush in its new spot along with the many other coloured primrose bushes that no longer line but surround the side of our house. I grab the white primroses and plant them alongside the violet bush. We stand back up and marvel at our primrose bushes. Through the years we have planted a sea of those flowers in honor of Prim.

"I still miss her, Peeta," I say, quietly.

"I know you do. Let these flowers remind us that Prim is still with us, in spirit," he says, gently.

He turns to face me and brushes his warm thumb under my eyes to wipe away the tears. He hugs me into his warm chest and rests his lips on my forehead which provides me with a comfort only Peeta Mellark can give me. He strokes my hair and I wrap my arms tightly around him. I weep into Peeta's chest as I mourn for my little duck.

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 **Thanks for reading! This was incredibly sad to write. Review if you deem this story worthy. :)**


	4. Sunsets

**School's been really dodgy lately and I thought the perfect way to remedy this hatred I have for school is to post a chapter. So here's a chapter! I tried so hard to** **make it longer, but no matter how hard I tried it just ended up sounding strange and overly-stretched out. So here it is, short and hopefully good.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

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Sunsets give off such a wonderful sense of peacefulness that it causes Peeta and I to constantly find ourselves sitting in the meadow admiring it. Every time we sit here it reminds me that life has gone on and it is good. After the war, thinking about a life like this would have just been a wild, impossible dream.

"Look, daddy, it's your favourite colour!" exclaims Willow, as she points to the sunset. She and Rye had sat next to us so silently that I almost forgot that they were sitting with us.

"You know me so well, Willow," smiles Peeta as he hugs Willow closer to his body.

The four of us sit in silence as the sun makes its way down the horizon, casting bright orange hues through the sky. It's such a beautiful feeling to know that this sunset is real and not just an artificial picture produced by a Hunger Games arena. The birds chirp softly in the distance and that eventually coaxes Willow and Rye into sleep. Peeta heaves a gentle sigh.

"You love me. Real or not real?" he asks, quietly.

I turn away from the sunset to face Peeta. He asks me the question a lot, every time we watch the sunset. He knows I love him, but I guess it's just comforting for him to hear me say it.

"Real. It will always be real," I reply.

He turns to face me and I look into his blue eyes. A beautiful smile decorates his face. His warm lips touch my own and I close my eyes. This is exactly where I want to be. We no longer have to freeze this moment because we now have the freedom to live in it forever.

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 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. :)**


	5. Willow's Lullaby

**I didn't say this before but, in these stories, Willow is about seven and Rye is a toddler. So these stories are set pretty much straight after the epilogue in Mockingjay** **. I should have said that before but I forgot. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

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The storm, outside, rages on. The rain tumbles down on our roof and the loud noise is almost soothing. Every so often the sound of thunder tells me that the storm is still close to us.

I lay awake whilst Peeta is sound asleep. Sleep has never been quick to consume me. Sometimes it's the constant fear of falling into a nightmare that forces me to keep my eyes open but other times it is just the fact that I don't feel tired and tonight is one of those times. I lay on my side fiddling with a piece of string, tying knots and then undoing them. I hear quick footsteps run towards our bedroom and I know, immediately, that the thunder has frightened Willow.

"Willow, what's wrong?" I whisper. She stands in the doorway, her face streaked with tears.

"Mummy, I'm scared," Willow sobs.

"It's okay. Mummy's here," I say.

I precariously lift away the blanket, being careful not to wake Peeta. I lift Willow up into my arms and she rests her head on my shoulders as her sobs subdue. I walk out into the hallway and turn the lights on.

"Can you sing me a song?" asks Willow.

I have to pause for a moment because her question seems all too familiar.

"Yes, of course," I say. I clear my throat and pace up and down the hallway as I quietly sing the song.

 _"Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

 _A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

 _Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

 _And when again they open, the sun will rise._

 _Here it's safe, here it's warm_

 _Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

 _Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

 _Here is the place where I love you"_

Willow is fast asleep as soon as I finish singing the song. I walk back into her bedroom and precariously place her back down in her bed. I pull her blanket over her shoulders and plant a delicate kiss on her forehead. She reminds me so, overwhelmingly, much of Rue and when I sung the same song to her as she, to, closed her eyes.

I turn the lights off and tip toe back into my bedroom. I gently pry away the blanket and lye back down, tucking myself under the warm covers.

"I've always loved your singing voice," mutters Peeta, with his eyes still closed. At first his voice startles me. With his eyes still closed he turns his body around to face me and wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in his embrace. I plant a kiss on his forehead and rest my head against his chest. I hear his steady heart beat which, to me, is a lullaby of sorts. Before long I, to, am consumed by sleep.

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 **Hope you enjoyed this** **chapter! Thank you to Jesusfollower97 for constantly reviewing! Oh and I may not have internet connection tomorrow so, unfortunately, I** **won't be able to post a new chapter. I will post a chapter as soon as I get internet connection. :)**


	6. Peeta's Pearl

**This one is another one of those less sad chapters! Hooray for less sad chapters! :) Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

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Whilst Willow and Rye take their afternoon nap I take pleasure in sitting on the couch with a warm mug of peppermint tea. The aroma it emits is soothing and refreshing.

I hear the front door unlocking and Peeta walks in.

"You're home early," I state the obvious.

"I wanted to give you a gift," he says, as he rummages around in his coat pocket.

"What's the occasion," I ask.

"The occasion is me wanting to give you a gift," smiles Peeta. I give a quiet chuckle.

He retrieves a small brown box from his pocket and opens it.

"Close your eyes," he instructs. I close my eyes. I hear Peeta walk behind me. He lays something on my chest, a charm of some sort, and his fingers fiddle with something behind my neck.

"Open your eyes," he says.

I look down at my chest and see the black pearl dangling off a silver chain.

"The pearl," I gasp.

"I figured that I should get it made into a necklace so it would be more practical," says Peeta.

"Peeta, it's beautiful," I exclaim, as I roll the pearl in between my finger tips.

"I'm glad you like it," he says as he plant a kiss on the crook of my neck.

"I don't just like it, I love it," I smile.

That night, I keep the necklace on and fiddle with the pearl as I lay awake. It feels cold and soothing on my fingertips. I glance at Peeta's sleeping face. I no longer see the wounded boy when he has his eyes closed. I see Peeta; the Peeta that I love. The Peeta who has endured so much; the Peeta that's stronger than most. Sometimes, I am incredibly selfish for thinking that only I have endured the pain that I have endured. Peeta, to, has experienced loss and, worse, torture. But I am luckier than Peeta. I still have my mother, no one from Peeta's family survived the District 12 bombings.

I glance at the iridescent pearl and immediately think back to when Peeta gave it to me. When neither of us knew about the rebellion or the fact that we would both survive. The pearl symbolises two things; The Games and Peeta. As terrible as The Games were, and as terrible as the loss they have caused is, they have had a contribution to who I am today. Stronger or weaker, The Games have changed me.

It's strange how something as tiny as a pearl can hold so much significance. It holds so many memories of loss and love. I let go of the pearl and let it rest against my skin. As I slowly drift off to sleep I think of how the pearl signifies what has made me.

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 **Thanks for reading! Review if you deem it worthy! :)**


	7. Flash Backs

**I apologise for not posting a chapter in ages, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless. :) I would also like to give a thanks to Jesusfollower97 for the suggestion and idea for this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, unfortunately :(**

 **Spoilers!**

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The flash backs are rare but they occur nonetheless. Sometimes Peeta grasps the side of the table and squeezes it until his knuckles turn white. I am always unsure of whether I should intervene and comfort him or not. I always have to ask myself if it would put me in danger - would he attack me?

His flash back comes abruptly and I sit in silence as I wait for it to pass. An overwhelming amount of sympathy overcomes me. I know it's torturous for him and I wish I could take these terrible flash backs away. It's as if I have a flash back of my own whilst I watch Peeta. My mind wanders back to when Peeta was hijacked and the way I felt when I thought I had lost his original self forever.

"Is daddy okay?" whispers Willow as she eyes Peeta with a concerned look.

I quickly lead Willow into another room. I hurriedly piece together a non-confronting explanation.

"Daddy's okay. Daddy's been through some sad moments and sometimes those sad moments come back to him," It was a terrible explanation and so extremely far from the truth. What Peeta has been through would be too saddening for anyone to hear let alone Willow.

Willow's eyes well up with tears.

"Poor daddy," she sobs. I kneel down and wrap her in my embrace. Somehow her tears cause me to shed tears of my own.

"Will daddy be okay?" she asks, her sobs a little more subdued.

"Yes of course," I assure her. "Daddy will always be okay," I add.

The real explanation of why Peeta experiences these flash backs will be saved for another day. When Willow and Rye are old and mature enough to understand and not be frightened. There will come a time when the questions become constant and I know I will be ready and prepared to explain everything, even if it will pain me to do so, because they both deserve to know.

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 **Thank you for reading! Review if you deem it worthy :)**

 **I would also like to add that Rye wasn't included in this chapter because I thought that he would just be too young to understand as he is only a toddler. He possibly wouldn't even have noticed that Peeta was having a flash back. I'm sorry I haven't really included Rye in many of the chapters, but I promise to write one focussed more on Rye in the future :)**


	8. Nightmares

**This chapter touches quite a prominent subject about Katniss and I hope I have done it justice.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games**

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I wake with a loud scream. Cold sweat drips down my forehead. The nightmare had been so vivid and it had felt so incredibly real. It was Snow, he had taken Peeta, Willow and Rye. He had slaughtered them, as I watched.

Peeta's comforting arms are there to greet my distressed self.

"It's okay, Katniss. I'm right here," comforts Peeta.

My heart beats a million miles per second and my breathing is heavy and inconsistent.

"Peeta, Peeta," I gasp.

"I'm here, Katniss. It's okay,"

"Willow, Rye," I gasp. I throw off the blanket in an attempt to get up and check that they're still sleeping in their bedrooms.

"It's okay. They're both here too," assures Peeta.

My breathing gradually returns to its normal pace.

"I'm sorry for waking you," I stutter.

"You don't need to apologise for anything," says Peeta as he places my head on his shoulder and gently runs his fingers through my hair.

I wrap my arms around Peeta and he hugs me into his chest. He traces lazy circles on my lower back with his finger which provides me with a comforting sensation. My sobs slow down and eventually stop altogether. I feel so lucky to always have Peeta with me when I wake from a terrible nightmare. I can now wake up and escape the nightmare instead of waking up to another, different but equally as terrible, nightmare.

"I love you, Peeta," I mutter, into his shoulder.

"I love you too," he says as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Nightmares no longer consume me. Now, they are merely an image conjured up by my own mind. I can control them and they no longer threaten my sanity. I now have the assurance that I can always wake, from a nightmare, to Peeta's welcoming arms. I am not completely sure, but I think I have defeated my nightmares.

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 **Thanks for** **reading! Review if you deem it worthy! :)**

 **Also, I can take suggestions, requests or prompts for future chapters. :)**


	9. Moments

**It feels like years since I have published a chapter, but I have finally written something I am happy with. Yay!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games (duh!)**

 **Spoilers!**

 **I hope you enjoy reading! :)**

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They come so abruptly and so suddenly and I am never prepared for them. They are like Peeta's flash backs but not as worse. They are difficult to explain exactly what they are, but I know they're a terrible, undesirable monster.

One moment I am happy, but the next moment I am a teary mess cowering over the floor. Although I am unsure of what to call them I know the exact cause.

Memories I have tried so hard to bury deep within me would, overwhelmingly, flood back. Both of the Games I participated in, President Snow, Finnick's death, Prim's death and so many other things that have destroyed me. They are like nightmares only I am, most definitely, awake.

I am merely sifting through a book when I am attacked by my horrifying memories. I squeeze my eyes shut in a feeble attempt to force it away.

The tears are quick to come and I am, involuntarily, reliving everything in my head, something I most definitely don't want to do. My memories flash through my head at such a speed that it causes me to feel dizzy.

Images of Finnick's sea-green eyes, Johanna's brutally tortured self, hijacked Peeta, Prim running towards me, Rue's death, the cannons, the white roses and many other horrific moments that I wish to forget rush through my head.

I retreat to the floor where I pull myself into a ball and sob into my knees. I clasp my hand over my mouth to quiet my loud sobs.

I hear Peeta's loud footsteps walking into the room. He knows of my moments and he also knows exactly what to do.

"I'll run you a bath," he says gently, as he strokes my back with his hand.

I nod vigorously in approval.

I hear Peeta turning on the faucet and soon the gentle fragrance of rose drifts through the room. I stay, unmoved, as the minutes tick past. At some point I drag myself over to the bathroom and slowly immerse myself into the warm, bubbly water after stripping myself of my clothes that had begun to feel too uncomfortable and confining. The warm water has a way of temporarily alleviating my grief and sadness.

I trace the faint scars on my arms and legs where new skin met damaged skin absent-mindedly. Over the years I have learnt to accept my patchwork skin, but the stories they force me to remember are something that I will never accept.

In the silence I can hear gentle birdsong from outside. I think of Peeta and how he cares for me and is always there to comfort me even though I merely wait for his flash backs to pass. I admire how Peeta always knows exactly what to do and say to comfort me and subdue my sorrow.

Through the years he has collected this knowledge whereas I haven't. I am so, very, lucky to have Peeta. I think of how Haymitch was so incredibly right; I could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve him.

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 **This chapter was kind of focussed on Katniss' PTSD and I really hope I have done it justice. Thank you for reading! Review if you wish!**

 **Also, I can take requests or prompts for future chapters. :)**


	10. Sea-green Eyes

**I'm back! I would say I am back from a break, but, let's be honest, I was just being lazy. :) It's been a while, I could also blame that on the lack of inspiration, but I feel like I do that every time I don't publish for a while. This is another one of those rather short stories, but I feel like if I added anything more it would be unnecessary and frivolous. So, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

 **Spoilers!**

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He looks too much like his father; when he stands in front of me, it's as if he never really left. His identical appearance is almost too painful to look at, but at the same time you just can't look away as he has inherited all his father's handsome features; the tanned skin, bronze hair and, the ever unmistakable, sea-green eyes. There is no doubt that he looks the exact way his father would've looked when he was the same age.

I remember when Peeta and I first laid our eyes on him; when we were given a photo that will eternally rest amongst the pages of the book. Of course, he had only been an infant. Now, he is strong young man of fifteen years; his father's death buried in his past. But, of course, he knows the stories; the reasons why. Annie Cresta took time in telling him. His father's story will never be forgotten; it will always be remembered whether it is by words inked onto a page or by our own memories and stories.

When I look into the boy's eyes I see the man who saved Peeta, stood before me whilst only wearing his underwear and the man who was mauled by the Capitol's lizard mutts. His father was another innocent life consumed by the Capitol; by the war. But his son is another privileged child who benefits from what the war has created.

I remember when Annie informed me of the many questions the boy asked her about his father. It was always difficult for her to give him answers, at first. She used to crumble into tears and leave the boy wondering what it was that happened to his father that made his mother so terribly sad. Then, slowly, she gave him answers; telling him that his father had been killed during a war that has created the boy's freedom.

It brings me comfort to know that, now, the boy won't have the same fete as his father; he will not have to fight for something we used to be deprived of. It, also, comforts me to know that Finnick would be so proud of his son of whom he didn't even know of. Finnick lives in all of us and it is so much better when you can see the feature that defined him in real life. They truly are unmistakable; those sea-green eyes.

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 **Okay, so the reason behind not actually giving Finnick's son a name is because I don't think I would be able to give him a name that would do him justice. I think everyone has so many different views of his son especially when the book only very vaguely mentions him and because of that I didn't want to spoil** **anyone's vision of Finnick's son with a name that didn't truly fit.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review if you wish! :)**


	11. Peeta's

**Another chapter! Yay! The plot bunny seems to be in a good mood ;). Anyway, this chapter is a little different from the others. I have made it mainly focused on Peeta and changed it to third person just because I thought it was more fitting. This, again, is another one of those shorter chapters, but is hopefully good nonetheless. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Spoilers!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

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He finds solace in the smallest of things; kneading dough, watching the sunset, seeing his children, or looking into a certain pair of grey eyes. One might ask how solace could possibly be found in such activities, but his reasoning is that they all remind him that everything is beautifully real and not any sort of hallucination.

Spending time at the bakery makes him think of the self he once was before anything had occurred. When he had been a simple District 12 citizen who spent his days making cakes and breads for his family's bakery. The Boy with the Bread still remains but, it is much more fitting to say that he is rather the Boy Once with the Bread. He is so much different now; so much stronger.

He discovers that watching the sunset makes him reflect on everything that has occurred throughout his life; what he's been part of and what he has done. It sends him on a journey of remembrance, but all the painful moments have been erased. It gives him time to reflect on all the good that he has been part of and all the wonderful moments that have made him feel a sense of elation.

Watching his children running through the serene meadow reminds him that he is living the life he never thought he would have. It, sometimes, brings tears to his eyes when he dwells on the thought that he almost wasn't going to get what he has now. His children also remind him of those who can now live in peace with no looming worries of their names being inked onto paper and put into circular glass bowls.

He knows that the pair of grey eyes are a constant reminder of how fortunate he is. To him, she is so much more than the Girl on Fire or the Mockingjay. He finds it difficult to put into words how much he really loves her, but things that are so beautiful have no need to be put into a words.

His life has never felt so wonderful and everything allows him to know that all the pain and all the suffering was all completely worth it.

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 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review if you deem it worthy! :)**


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